Chance of a Lifetime (20 page)

Trace laughed. “Pathetic line, Matheson.”

“No line. The wolves are circling.”

He watched her scan the room then nod slightly. Without another word, she leaned over and kissed him on the mouth. It was a quick, hard, closed-mouth kiss that was over before it could start any fire, but he liked the feel of her lips.

“That’s not going to fool anyone,” Rick whispered.

She tried again.

The kiss lasted longer and she put her hand on his chest as she leaned close. She was doing all the right things, but there was no passion in her action. When she pulled an inch away, she whispered, “Convincing?”

“Good enough.” He smiled down at her, realizing he’d just learned something no one knew about Trace Adams. She knew nothing about kissing. He touched her hand. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to the band, and then let’s get out of here.”

She nodded. “Good idea. The crowd’s getting louder and drunker.”

They made their way to the stage just as the last song in the first set ended. Rick introduced Beau Yates, but he only nodded when she told him how much she loved his music. Border, on the other hand, couldn’t stop talking.

To Trace’s credit, she didn’t even blink when she said, “You must be Mrs. Biggs’s grandson.”

The tattooed kid nodded and replied, “You must be the woman who owns the bike in Martha Q’s garage.” Border Biggs made a low whistling sound.

A bottle hit the cage before Trace answered.

Border laughed. “Time to get back to playing before the first fight of the night breaks out.”

Rick took her hand and they moved across the now-empty dance floor. Two guys were yelling at each other over by the pool table and several friends of each seemed to want to join in for a fight.

“We’d better hurry,” Rick whispered as she pulled free of his hand.

He turned to yell as all hell broke loose around him. Suddenly, she was shoving him toward the front door as everyone in the place seemed to be rushing for the pool table area. He felt something sharp stab into his arm. Then they were through the rushing river of people and Trace was pulling him outside.

On the porch, Rick planted his feet and stopped. She continued to tug him until he said, “My arm.”

Trace turned back, and in the one light over the door, he saw her
face turn white. Holding his elbow close to his side, he looked down to see two darts sticking out of his arm.

“Pull them out.”

Trace just stared at the two darts.

“Pull them out!”

She circled her fingers around the darts and jerked.

They’d been planted deep. Blood rushed out the open holes left in his skin.

“I’ll get you to the hospital.”

“No.” He’d had enough of emergency rooms. “The fire station is just down the street. Whoever is there tonight can bandage me up. It’s nothing.”

They walked through the darkness toward the lights of the fire station. Rick didn’t want to talk about it. The darts were just an accident. Someone in the crowd had simply had them in his hand when he moved toward the pool tables and accidentally stabbed them into his arm. It was a mishap. It crossed Rick’s mind that if he yelled it, his words still wouldn’t sound convincing.

Willie Davis, one of the volunteers at the firehouse, patched him up and offered Rick a cup of coffee. Since he’d already had his tetanus shot, there was no need to go to the hospital unless the bleeding refused to stop. Willie had been studying first aid, so he entertained Rick with stories about what could go wrong with even a small cut if it wasn’t doctored properly.

Trace watched and listened. When two more firemen came in, she mumbled something about going after the car and disappeared about the time the men began teasing Rick about being mistaken for a dartboard.

Rick watched her go, knowing that she could take care of herself and that it would be a while before she returned. For the second time, it struck him as odd that a woman who carried a gun would hate the sight of blood.

T
HURSDAY NIGHT

T
RACE WALKED SLOWLY BACK TO THE BAR, HER MIND
piecing together all the facts. She’d thought she’d had the situation totally under control. All evening no one had stepped within three feet of Rick without her being aware of it, but then, suddenly in a blink, he was hurt. Not bad, not dangerously, but almost as if someone was passing along a warning. Someone was telling the lawyer that he could get to him. Either this someone was dumber than any criminal she’d ever worked with, or he was toying with Rick. But why?

On a hunch, she pulled her cell and snapped a shot of every license plate in the parking lot. Then she walked back into the bar. Rick had been right about one thing—this wasn’t the kind of place where a woman could have a drink alone without having half the drunks in the place bothering her. Trace had one choice and she knew exactly who to turn to for help.

She walked to the cage Rick had called a stage and asked Border if he’d like to have a drink with her.

He almost dropped his guitar as he hurried out of the cage. Beau continued to play, but Trace didn’t miss the way he winked at his partner.

“I need a bodyguard. I need someone I can trust,” she said as they walked across the dance floor. “Rick was stabbed with two darts, and I’d like you to help me look around for who might have done it.”

“I’ll guard your body all night,” Border whispered. “My grandmother showed me your bike Sunday when you were at the hospital with Rick. Any woman who can handle a hog can ask any favor she likes.”

“I don’t want to be bothered while I look around, so just stay close.” She patted his arm. “And when this is over, I’ll let you take the bike for a ride.”

“I’ll be stuck to you like glue, lady.”

Trace looked at the kid. Something about his over two hundred pounds of tattoos made him downright adorable. “Just keep the drunks away from me as I move around the room. The darts were royal blue, custom-made. I’m just looking for the rest of the set tonight.”

He pushed a few cowboys aside as if they were the swinging doors to the bar and said, “If I hadn’t made it with the band, I was thinking about being a PI or maybe a bounty hunter.”

“I could tell from the first you were very observant. You’d make a great PI.” She fought the urge to pat his head.

They walked the bar, moving from table to table as they talked. No royal blue darts. The two pool players who’d started all the excitement were now sharing a pitcher. Most of the couples were settling into slow dancing. “Foreplay on your feet,” Border called it, and Trace had to laugh.

When they passed the bar for the third time, a drunk fell off one of the stools and almost bumped her. Border’s arm blocked him. He was doing his job, which was more than she’d done with Rick earlier.

“Nothing,” she said as she walked out the front door.

Border followed. “Sorry.”

She shook his hand. “Don’t say anything to anyone about this, would you?”

“You got it. I’ll just say you wanted to take me home, but I wasn’t interested. No one will believe it, but it’ll stop any more questions. Because they’ll figure I’m delusional.”

“Thanks. You did a good job.”

He grinned. “I’ll be happy to watch your body anytime.”

She stepped into the darkness and headed toward the Land Rover. In a strange way, Rick had been right. Border Biggs was just like his grandma. Willing to help.

A few minutes later, when she picked up Rick at the fire station, she almost wished she were back with the tattooed kid. Rick’s mood had gone from being bothered to being enraged.

“Want to talk about it?” she asked after he’d sat silent most of the way home.

“No,” he answered.

“What’s the matter?” She’d never been able to let a sleeping dog lie.

“You mean other than being stalked by the village idiot?”

“Yeah, other than than.” She parked the Land Rover in the garage and waited for his answer.

Finally, as she knew he would, he exploded. “For starters, I have no money and hate my job. Someone trashed my apartment and torched my car. Then, as if my life’s not bad enough, someone tried to kill me…
again
!”

Trace stared directly in front of her. “Look on the bright side, Matheson, the wings were good tonight.”

He shot out of the car and was halfway to the porch before she caught up. Her long legs had no problem matching his stride. “I’m glad you find my life so funny, Marshal.”

“Marshal?”

“Don’t waste your breath denying it. Gabe told Alex, and she told Hank you weren’t just friends with his buddy Denver—you worked with him. You’re a federal marshal.”

“I’m on vacation,” she answered, knowing it was a weak response. She should have been up front with him from the first, but he was so set against having anyone watching over him. Trace had thought it would be easier to lie, and now Rick would probably never trust her again. “I’m sorry.” She had to try to clear this mess up or he’d be yelling at her from now on. “I screwed up. I should have told you.” When he still didn’t look at her, she continued, “You might as well know it all. I’m not on vacation. I’m on leave after a shooting.”

“And you’re not Martha Q’s niece?”

She shook her head. “I met her once when I came through here on my way to Dallas. She’s a hoot. I wouldn’t mind having her in my family, but no, I’m not related to her. It was just a way to set me up in the house so I could keep an eye on you.”

Some of the anger flowed out of him with one long frosty breath.

They were on the porch. He turned his back to her to unlock the door. As they stepped into the hallway, he finally looked at her. “No, I’m the one who’s messed up. I’m the one who has the hots for a woman who’s being paid to watch over me. You, Marshal Adams, are a liar, but I’m the fool. At this rate, even an idiot should be able to put me out of my misery. What I don’t understand is why someone like me isn’t easy to bump off.”

“You’ve got the hots for me?”

Rick swore. “Is that the only part of the conversation you heard?” He moved down the hallway. “Well, don’t worry about it. Something about knowing you’re probably wearing a badge on your underwear calms me down considerably. Maybe if I just take a few thousand aspirin and go to bed, I’ll wake up in a few weeks and find out this nightmare is over.”

“I’m not,” she answered as she followed him down the hall.

“You’re not what?”

“I’m not wearing a badge on my underwear. I don’t wear underwear.”

Rick turned the knob to his room and used his head to knock it open. “Kill me now.”

She laughed but didn’t step in behind him. “Get some sleep, Matheson. I’ll see you in the morning.”

F
RIDAY

E
MILY SAT AT HER DESK IN THE BACK OF THE LIBRARY
staring out at the long line of elms winding their way along the back of the property. She’d texted Tannon several times yesterday asking about his mother, and he’d finally answered back this morning that he was heading to Amarillo as soon as he could get out of the office. He said he’d gotten back to Harmony too late yesterday to call.

The note hadn’t been friendly. Maybe he really was busy. Maybe he was having second thoughts about being friends. Neither one of them was really the friend type.

Emily stood and walked the library. She was nervous about the town council meeting this afternoon. Thinking about what Tannon was doing helped distract her from work. He must have driven home late last night and then was planning to leave as soon as he could to return to the hospital. Maybe his mother was worse, maybe even dying, and he
didn’t want to worry her with what he must think of as his problem.

“You’re missing your ten o’clock break,” the children’s librarian said as she passed. “Too cold to go out even to run over to the bakery, I guess?”

For Darla, the world under eighty degrees was always too cold. She’d been the librarian in the children’s section for so long she’d seen generations pass through. Now and then she’d call a little boy by his father’s name. She could read every book in the youth section without even glancing at the words and must have dated Dr. Suess for all she knew about the man.